


You Can Run

by breaking_points



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: AU, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banter, Bughead Sleuthing, Cuddling, Different Murder Mystery, English Village AU, F/M, Father Brown AU, I fell for the stereotype, I'm Sorry, Jason Blossom is still alive, Limes, Mutual Pining, Varchie just a lil bit, mild swearing, they love each other too much
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-09-30
Updated: 2018-03-08
Packaged: 2018-12-31 11:00:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 6
Words: 6,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12131007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/breaking_points/pseuds/breaking_points
Summary: Jason Blossom never died, and Riverdale is a small English village where innocence is a façade and evil is sovereign.Betty, Jughead, Veronica, Archie and Kevin only wanted a picnic. Just some gourmet Betty-style lasagna was all they asked for.Instead, they got murder in broad daylight and a killer who is ruthless and cold like his murder weapon.*DISCONTINUED*





	1. A Grave Happening

**Author's Note:**

> My first multi-chapter...please...have mercy on me.  
> Title is taken from You Can Run by Adam Jones. It was the cool one that played when Clifford's body was discovered. It's an amazing song, and I'd wholly recommend listening to it.  
> Please, comment, comment, and comment! Comments always motivate me. 
> 
> <3
> 
> ~LC

The fair village of Riverdale was an idyllic English-small-village-type place. It had exquisite roses that flourished only when Alice Cooper tended to them, a nice church or two, and the folk were very friendly. A happy place, no doubt, the type where tourists wanted to go.

Until you got a little closer. Those people, who were so welcoming to tourists, were the same who would stop at nothing to get rid of their rivals.

Take the rose-tender, Alice. Her husband, Hal Cooper, had bad blood with Clifford Blossom, due to the main source of income for Riverdale, maple syrup. Neither party would tell you what happened, but this rivalry stopped at the next generation, when Jason Blossom, Clifford's son and twin brother of Cheryl, married Polly Cooper, Hal and Alice's daughter and older sister to Betty. After some opposition from the two families, the children all became friends. Polly and Jason were now married with twins and another one on the way.

Cheryl was dating Reggie Mantle, heir to the Mantle fortune. He acted like a douche, but he was actually nice and caring, at least only to Cheryl.

Betty was single, but she didn't mind. She had her best friends Archie, Veronica, Kevin, and Jughead.

She and Archie Andrews grew up as neighbors, and were probably destined to marry, but fate threw a wrench in the works and now Archie was dating Veronica, who had only moved to the village ten years ago (which, to the life-long residents, made her virtually a foreigner) after living in New York. Her parents, the wealthy Lodges, decided to live out their retirements in Riverdale, and she came along with them, eager for a vacation. She now vowed to stay here for life.

Kevin Keller was Betty and Veronica's good friend. He actually lived in Greendale, a neighboring village, but would pop by often. The gang had already met (and approved of) Kevin's boyfriend Joaquin, an ex-gang member-turned-cop.

Jughead Jones was a whole different story.

He had grown up with Archie and Betty, but he lived on the more dangerous side of the village, where Headman McCoy refused to interact with. The citizens there more or less ran their side, called the Southside.

Eventually, Jughead's mother and sister packed their bags and moved to Gloucester, leaving a fourteen-year-old Jughead and his alcoholic father behind.

Betty remembered him climbing up to her window and breaking down in her arms, while she soothed him and rubbed his back. Jughead wasn't one for physical contact, sure, but he lost control that night and eventually, Betty had to call Archie over for reinforcements.

Jughead was the brooding type, quiet and sarcastic, but around their aforementioned inner circle, he became more open and less guarded.

They'd already known the worse, and accepted him as he was, which was a huge relief to him. His biggest fear was that they'd known who he was, that his mother left him behind in the wee hours of the morning as a child, no older than fourteen, that he was abandoned.

Of course, when they found out, they were upset, but knowing things weren't so well at home, Betty let him stay at her house (under the consent of Alice and Hal, of course).

Now they had all grown up, got out of university, and came back to their village. Most people who lived in a small town were determined that they'd hightail it out of there, and make it big in the world. But they'd all made a pact, before leaving for their respective universities, that they'd stay in touch, and come back here and live their lives together.

There was no plot twist. They were all happy here, especially since now Jughead became a famous writer, Betty a well-known journalist, Veronica and Kevin owners of a fashion company, and Archie a rugby player. Sure, they had some things to do in major cities, but their homebase was here, and they wouldn't have it any other way.

Their parents weren't as well off.

FP, Jughead's father, stopped drinking, but he'd gotten more mixed-up with the darker side of town, and eventually, cut off all ties with his son. Of course, it broke his child's fragile heart, but he'd convinced himself that he didn't need his father back in his life, and went on.

Hiram Lodge was in jail for an embezzlement charge in London, and was incarcerated there. Hermione, his wife, and her daughter decided to have nothing to do with him, despite (or because of?) his threats to expose them. Expose them for what? They were as innocent as the child born yesterday.

Alice and Hal eventually divorced, due to "irreconcilable differences." Everyone knew, however, that it was because of Alice's controlling nature and Hal's seemingly patient exterior, the exterior that hid an equally aggressive mind.

Clifford Blossom was as corrupt as they came, being the maple syrup tyrant that he was. Penelope wasn't corrupt, but she was worse. She was almost insane, driving her daughter to near suicide and becoming the target of the village's hatred.

Headman McCoy appeared to have it all together for her humble little village, when in reality she hid all of the place's secrets under her desk drawer, under lock and key.

And that was Riverdale.

But for now, the villagers were content to leave their home as it was, a nice spot in the many villages of England.

 

"Juggie? I swear to God, if you don't come back with our food..."

"Trust me, Jones, you don't want the wrath of Betty Cooper focused on you." 

"I know, right? Those took her four hours to make. _Four hours_!"

Betty, Veronica, and Kevin were calling out for Jughead, who had grabbed the basket for their afternoon picnic and headed straight for the woods. He knew these trees better than anyone else, except for Betty and Archie, the latter seeking a nice spot while the other three chased the raven-haired thief.

"Agh! My joints! Keep in mind, Jughead, that I'm not as young as I used to be. I don't crush on footballers anymore! I'm 25, for God's sake! How am I supposed to keep up with you?!" Kevin huffed out, stopping at a great oak tree.

"I'm in Jimmy Choo heels, Jughead, so unless you want their marks all over your corpse, come back with that picnic basket!" Veronica threatened, soon joining Kevin.

Betty ran for the treehouse they'd built when they were about eight, with help from Fred Andrews and Hal Cooper, and some assistance from FP. This was before Kevin and Veronica came in, and when they didn't have to worry about things that adults did. Just the mere A-word was frowned upon, quickly followed by sunny smiles as they held their orange-flavored creamsicles.

Before life got messy.

She climbed up the rope ladder, as agile as she was when she had to sneak up on them and scare them during their scheduled reading of the horror comics. She recalled one instance where Jughead got so scared, he fell out the window. She was unsure to this day of exactly _how_ he managed that, but he thankfully seemed none the worse for injury, except for his loose tooth falling out.

His smile that day, with two absent front teeth, made her heart flutter.

She'd loved him for years, after Archie told her that he loved Veronica and he did love her, just not as Veronica.

She was surprisingly okay with it. Her theory was that she was more in love with the idea of being in love with Archie than she was actually in love with him.

But she remembered vividly stumbling to the small restaurant that they frequented then, and still did in their 20's, and collapsing into a seat and bursting into tears. She remembered Jughead slowly getting out of his chair, and giving her a gentle hug, massaging her back and whispering soothing words into her hair, his chin on her head.

That was when she realized.

She snapped herself out of her nostalgic mindanderings and focused on a beanie-clad thief, casually sitting cross-legged with the sought-after basket resting on his lap. The way his hair fell on his face...

 _Stop that_ , she thought, and snatched the precious basket out.

"You little-"

"Why Betty, don't go and swear on me," he smirked. "It wouldn't look nice at all on that beautiful face of yours."

Her face, already flushed from the running, turned even redder at his teasing. She'd realized that he'd become a big flirt - but only around her.

She must've been dreaming.

"Well, Mr. I-Just-Made-My-Friends-Chase-Me-Through-Fox-Forest," she rambled, "You really have no right to talk."

"Very long name I have there," he said, raising his eyebrows, "But it sounds so pretty coming from your lips."

After she smacked him across the chest, and he'd fake-swooned, pretending to be hurt (" _you've wounded me, Cooper_!") they started heading back to the edge of the forest where their friends were waiting for them. They soon passed the cemetery, a little place with a great number of headstones for the tiny plot of land. The majority of the people buried were founding families of Riverdale, like the Coopers, Kellers, Joneses, Andrewses, Lodges, etc. (the Kellers and Lodges' present generations were simply moving back to Riverdale). They always liked to stop by and look there. Like the Merediths in _Rainbow Valley_ , they'd hung out there and used to theorize about what exactly the engravings on the headstones meant. As Betty glanced over, she noticed something odd.

"Hey," she whispered, catching Jughead's attention. "What's that over there?"

He turned and peered closer. "Let's go find out."

They huddled close to each other for safety (Betty did not miss the way his arm wrapped around hers, and the way her heart sped up when she felt his body heat) and moved into the graveyard. They came closer to the figure that was lying on a freshly covered grave.

Betty cautiously unwound her sweater from her waist, and used it to turn the body over. She gasped when the head fell off the corpse.

When they zeroed in on the severed head, their hearts stopped simultaneously.

Jughead choked out a " _Dad_?"


	2. (But Burned Into My Brain Are These) Stolen Images

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sheriff Keller, as usual, plays Bad Cop. Nothing new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Painful nostalgia, maybe even *gasps* ANGST is ahead.  
> You've been warned.
> 
> I should post the next two or three chapters in a week or two. What? School happens.
> 
> This chapter's title comes from Lana Del Rey's "Without You." It's very nostalgic and beautiful (I'm totally overdoing the sad-song-chapter-title cliché).

_Betty was going over her history homework, sighing as she thought of the amount of work she would have to do through the week. Nothing new, of course. She would just power through like her mother always taught her._

_She heard a gentle tapping, with the distinct tune of Shave and a Haircut – Two Bits, and quickly turned her head around. The beanie hovering outside told her who it was._

_“Jughead?” She asked, opening the window. “Mom-“_

_She stopped as she took in his trembling lip, and watering eyes._

_“Oh my god, Jughead!” she said as she all but carried him into her room. “What happened?”_

_In between sniffles and sobs, he told her everything. How his mom took particular care to tuck him into bed, kiss him goodnight, make him feel special for once, and she left. She’d left a note in the morning, telling him how sorry she was, and telling FP how much of a bastard he was._

_Her heart broke just listening to the story, and she hugged him to her, letting his forehead drop to her chest as sobs wracked his whole body. She cuddled him close, whispering soothing words as her shirt became soaked with his tears. Archie came by later, seeing them through his window. He brought tissues and freshly-baked sandwiches. They all made Jughead laugh to try to abate the pain and for the moment, the agony was gone._

 

She thought of that time, as he slid into her arms. No tears were to be seen, though. The expression on his face, however, would beat any animal shelter advertisement; just looking at it shattered her heart all over again.

“So, he’s dead, after years of forecast upon forecast,” he choked out in what she guessed was meant to sound like a laugh, but was actually a sob. She wanted to cry herself, seeing the love of her life like this, but she had to be strong for him. She treated him like a child, cradling his head in his arms and shushing him gently. The dam finally broke; he collapsed as he shivered with sorrow.

“He finally kicked the bucket,” he said, his eyes even blue-er if possible. “I always thought, you know, maybe, just maybe-“

And he couldn’t complete the sentence because the siren that had been going on for 2 hours (it was 4 now, and the food had long gone cold) stopped near them as Head Constable Keller stepped out.

“Mr. Jones? Ms. Cooper?” he asked, staring down at them.

Jughead swallowed. “Yes, Constable?”

“You need to come down to the station for questioning.”

He was a huge pain in the arse, the senior Keller was.

Accusing Jughead, even when the shock and desolation was still in full effect, of hating his dad, wanting him dead. It made Betty violently sick. It was Jughead! Even though he didn’t finish his sentence, she understood what he was going to say.

“ _Just maybe Mom and Jellybean would come back_.”

“ _Just maybe we could live our lives like we used to_.”

“ _Just maybe everything would be okay again_.”

But, as he liked to say when he could use his sarcasm as a shield, that was wishful thinking. The time for that ended 11 years ago. He always clung onto the hope that he could see them again, even after his mom blatantly told him she never wanted to see his face again – he reminded her too much of FP, and she didn’t want Jellybean to see an FP incarnate.

Betty was sure that he’d gone and cried again, but by himself.

She watched helplessly as Keller hurled hurtful things in his face, and while Jughead’s face remained impassive (seriously, he was phenomenal at poker) but she saw telltale signs of his inner rage – the subtle clenching of his jaw, the way his eyebrows furrowed at times, his nails digging into his thighs.

And it was when he raised his hand to his eye that she’d had enough.

“ **STOP**!” she yelled, standing up and flinging her chair to the side. “Can’t you see he’s lost his father? His goddamn father, and you’re sitting here and accusing him of capital murder?”

Keller sat there with a shocked expression, and he looked into her green eyes and saw the rage. He saw that before, when Alice Cooper, aged 17, marched into his father’s office, without even filling out the appointment book, and demanded justice for her Serpent boyfriend, who had unjustly been put behind bars. That same boyfriend who had passionately made out with her through the cold steel bars was now lying on a grave, long gone and with his soul put to rest.

He was now afraid. And he had goddamn reason enough to be.

“Honestly, instead of asking us if we committed it, and we sure as hell didn’t, you should be asking us what we found, when we found it, asking around the area, and checking out alibis! God!”

Her hand slammed on the desk, making the paperweights fall to the side and Jughead jumped. He’d seem this side of her a few times, around the insufferable Chuck Clayton, and the jocks of the football team when they’d bullied him. The number of times he’d been a witness never failed to amaze him, the way her eyes turned from a gentle, soothing emerald to a furious shade of jade just like that.

He’d always loved her, all the way back to when he was five and dropped his teddy bear on the ground; Chuck had walked up to it with a huge grin on his face (he was a douchebag even back then). He raised his foot over it when a clear, confident voice rang out.

“Stop that!” and soon Chuck was hit in the side by a blond power ball, and fell on the sidewalk, now incapable of destroying Jughead’s prized possession. He had swiveled his head to look at Ted’s savior, to see a tiny barefoot blonde with white shorts and a blue T-shirt that had a huge smile on her face.

“I’m Betty, wanna be friends?”

That was the moment he found his soul mate.

And for years he watched her pine over Archie, until they were 15 and suddenly she didn’t care, after bawling her eyes out at their special booth. Physical affection wasn’t his strong suit, but he tried his best then, and she told him she’d felt a lot better.

And now, he thought, he was sitting here, watching her scare the living daylights out of Head Constable for him. He’d always loved their relationship, even if it wasn’t going anywhere romantically. She stood up for him in a way that even Archie couldn’t, and he held her when she couldn’t keep her mask of strength on. They gladly carried each other’s burdens, and they had a shared strength that would make the OTPs of American television jealous.

He’d never thought he’d deserved her, he didn’t deserve anyone, but he wasn’t blind. He’d seen the way she looked at him sometimes – with the same expression that he used on her. He was hoping, and he prayed to the higher power he ended up trusting in for some reason, that he wouldn’t ever have to cry in someone else’s arms.

 

Veronica, Kevin, and Archie were now at Veronica’s luxurious house. They weren’t mad, but they all came in for a group hug.

He found odd comfort in their worry for him, this new feeling, being cared for, being loved. Something that families should have; something that his family never did.

They didn’t say much, just took him to the huge living room where Smithers served them hot chocolate, made just the way Jughead liked it.

He relaxed in the recliner, trying his hardest not to think about the fact that his father was now dead. After years of wishing that it would happen, it finally did. A small part of Jughead wondered, _was it my wishes that drove him to his grave?_

He would find out soon enough.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What's coming up next?
> 
> Watch this space for more to come.


	3. Then I Must Be Thy Lady

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From waffles to unstable relationships to Shakespeare references to John Green and Lorde.
> 
> I have given up on topic-stable chapters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who went on a month-long hiatus despite saying that they would update in a 'week or two' and wrote not one, but two, procrastination fics?  
> *raises hand ruefully*
> 
> Title is taken from one of Titania's many lines in A Midsummer's Night Dream, a classic Shakespeare comedy (seriously, how DO those actors do it?). 
> 
> Chapter 4 should be out in a few hours (I hope).

 

Betty woke up the next morning to the smell of waffles burning.

Stifling a laugh, she tiptoed to the kitchen to see Jughead screaming at the stove.

“I leave you for three goddamn seconds, and YOU BURN?! EVEN UNSTABLE RELATIONSHIPS LAST LONGER THAN YOU WAFFLES!”

Knowing full well that he didn’t know what a relationship was like, Betty giggled out loud. He whipped himself around and beheld her.

“Well, well, well, Betty Cooper,” he greets. “Didn’t expect to see you here so soon.”

“You watch too many suspense movies, Jug,” she retorted. “You’re beginning to sound like a serial killer yourself.”

“The better to banter with you, my dear,” he replied. “It fulfills my stalker stereotype that Reggie wholeheartedly believes in.”

She laughed again and looked him over. True, people usually sported the zombie look in the mornings, but Jughead was so adorable now. The curl, the eyes, the –

“Are you checking me out, Cooper?” Jughead teased. Was she dreaming or was he – Jughead Jones – blushing?

When she stuttered over her words, he couldn’t help but smirk – an expression that made her turn the color of Veronica’s lipstick.

“Okay, lovebirds,” came a voice from a bedroom, the voice of the Chanel-worshipper. “I love your arguing skills – you put the non-existent debate team of Riverdale to shame – but I want breakfast and I want it now.”

Jughead feigned indignation. “This is your apartment, Titania. I would think that as we are guests, we are more in a position to request comestibles.”

“Titania?” Veronica questioned, arching one perfectly-shaped eyebrow.

“One, you're acting like we're your attendants. Two, don’t pretend like we didn’t hear you and your fairy king last night.”

Veronica didn’t miss a beat. “Well, at least, we’re moving along. You have yet to court your Juliet.”

Jughead turned pink all the way to his ears and rubbed his neck, while Betty turned even more red than Penelope Blossom’s hair.

Veronica pivoted on her spotless house slippers and stalked towards the refrigerator, opening it.

“Thank God Smithers went out,” she called. “Otherwise I’d have to subject myself to Jughead-made waffles, a fate I wouldn’t wish on even my worst enemy.”

“Hey!” Jughead yelled in indignation as Betty guffawed.

 

The police interviews were now officially underway.

In Jughead’s defense, he had bad experiences with the law. Though he could count the number of times he’d gone to the Constable’s on one hand, the experiences of sitting there, being interrogated, made him wish that he’d run far, far away from the hellhole. Even when Jughead was just a seven-year-old, Constable Keller had been a douchebag. Shocker, right?

He supposed that he had to get used to this, now that his fucking father died. Keller, unlike most TV cops, did not have a good cop/bad cop setting. It was only set on “Emotionally Destroy Suspect Until They’re Proven Guilty.”

He sighed dramatically, flopping onto the bed. Now that he was done with today’s round of investigating, and everyone’s jobs had been placed on hiatus indefinitely, all he really had to do was satisfy the desires of his aching heart (yep, he had been reading too much Nicholas Sparks).

It was hard for him, hard for anyone really, to accept the fact that his father just died. His father, who had gifted him that crown beanie (it was sitting four feet away on his desk), had been beheaded and was left to rot on a grave. His father, who had, about a year ago, told him that he was done with the life of light that his son decided to follow. Maybe the few good memories would get to him and make him bawl eventually, but for now, he was too emotionally drained to care.

It was a mad world, he reckoned. It was a world filled with cruelly-edged glass, with cruelly-edged people. Souls shattered, and no one gave a damn most of the time. Everyone walked around in a constant state of turmoil, and didn’t care. Maybe there were a few moments that would be worth remembering when you left for good, the times of peace when you weren’t in pieces. Those memories were the ones that mattered – a sentiment he found associating with Betty.

He snapped himself out of his John Green-induced haze and decided to find food. Investigate interviews starring the Head Constable from hell tended to make him hungry.

When he poked his head out of the hallway, he was greeted with the sight of Betty singing – who was it? – Lorde, with a lyric that went like _I understand, I’m a liability, get you wild, make you leave_. His blood ran cold when he heard her sniff.

 

He immediately went to her, hugging her close to him, whispering soothingly in her ear.

 

“It’s going to be okay.”

 

He wasn’t sure if it had been him or her that had said that.


	4. If You Feel It, It Must Be Real

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Veronica Lodge is fed to the back teeth. Her OTP keeps shying around each other, and NOTHING is being done. 
> 
> One very ruined impromptu-date later, and something does get done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ha...I'm sorry. A few hours turned into 16 hours...  
> The upcoming limes scene is coming up...please take it easy. I've never written anything of this nature before...but I still want your feedback. All future scenes may be weird, cuz you know, I'm asexual. I know this story is pretty bad, but please tell me what you like and heck, what you don't like as well.  
> The actual sleuthing should pick up soon, if all goes well.
> 
> Title is taken from the 2008 hit, 4 Minutes, by Madonna, Timbaland, and Justin Timberlake.

 

Veronica had had enough.

Whenever the Lodge heiress wanted something, she went after it, be it a £500 bracelet or Archie Andrews.

She really couldn’t stand the whole Betty-and-Jughead-have-skirted-around-each-other-for-ten-years-and-still-have-not-done-a-single-thing-about-it. She’d heard stories from Kevin about how it was painfully obvious to everyone about how much they liked each other, yet none of them made a move.

God, even if Jughead was hot (the very definition of tall, dark, brooding, and handsome), he was the world’s worst Romeo. He couldn’t even tell Betty that her shirt was nice without blushing. 

They had been Veronica and Kevin’s OTP for so long, their bets had long gone cold.

She sighed dramatically.

Time to bring out her inner Janis Ian.

 

The minute Jughead walked in to his humble cottage, he was assaulted by a 5’1” ball of fury.

“JUGHEAD JONES, WE NEED TO TALK.”

He immediately backed up into a drawer, almost falling over.

“Jesus, Lodge! That Christian Siriano may look nice on you, but home invasion sure doesn’t.”

She scoffed. “Don’t beat around the bush, Jones. Just. Fucking. Propose. Already.”

He blew out a frustrated breath, knowing exactly what she was talking about.

“In case you haven’t noticed, Princess, she’s too good for me. She’s sunshine and cookies and vanilla-scented lotion. I’m the exact opposite. I don’t think-“

He was quieted by a maroon-painted nail pressing itself to his lips.

“Oh trust me, Jones,” she said. “I have to bear the brunt force of her pining after you.”

It was a lie. Betty usually confided in her diary, and not her friends – knowing full well that though Veronica and Kev meant well, they would tease her about her crush to no end.

But it did the trick. He turned red all the way to the tips of his ears, and managed to stutter a “R-really?”

“Oh hell yes, Jones. And even if she didn’t tell me,” she continued, “It’s painfully obvious. The mere mention of you and she becomes a blushing mess.”

He was pleased to hear that, but at the same time, he wasn’t sure what to think of it. He had longed for her for so long, bearing through her crush on Archie, and her heartbreak of her best friend and crush getting together, he was convinced by now that he would live and die in an unrequited love drama, all hopes be damned. He sighed.

“So what do you want to do about it?”

She smirked then, and Jughead had never been surer that the people who came up with the title _The Devil Wears Prada_ knew what they were talking about.

 

And now Kevin was in on the plan. He was with Betty then, and convinced her to go for a little fruit-gathering trip into Fox Forest. She had politely declined at first, but Kevin wasn’t one to take no for an answer, especially when it came to his OTP.

As for Veronica, she had told Jughead to bring out a picnic basket, with chocolate that she had flown in from New York specifically for this. It was cliché as fuck, that they knew, but oh well. Sometimes it is the simplest of plans that touch someone’s heart.

He was to show up with a banner made up entirely of gourmet fruit saying I Love You, Betty Cooper (to call it unique would be an _understatement_ ) and a very nice romantic dinner. At this point, he wasn’t sure if it was Betty or Veronica he would be asking out, because all of this didn’t seem very _Betty_. He decided that Veronica knew better, and now, standing out in the dark, with chocolate sauce (only the best kind) dripping down his clothes, he knew that he decided wrong.

Betty wandered out. “Jug?” she said, carefully, “What are you doing here?”

He laughed mirthlessly. “Only trying to ask you out with a banner made of the best kind of fruit.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Did I hear you right? A banner made of _fruit_?”

He was stunned. She didn’t sound happy at all, like Veronica had assured him. She sounded… _mad_?

He threw his hands up. “I knew this was a mistake.”

She stepped up to him, her hands clenching into fists. “What did you just say?”

“I said, this was a mistake. Asking you out with gourmet food. Veronica convinced me to do this, said you would be happy with me finally wooing you.”

“Jughead Jones! Of course this was a mistake! You don’t love me at all. You only did this because you were obligated to, you felt bad for me…”

He stopped then. “What? I never said that.”

She was basically simmering now. “You were flirting with me so often, you were always there for me…it was a lie, right?” She spat out, her voice trembling with raw fury.

He was speechless, so she continued.

“I have loved you for ten years, Jughead. You were just playing with me this whole time, right? I realized that you were always more to me, that one night…”

“Betty.” The sorrow, the shock in his voice made her raise her head and look up at him.

She was stunned to see what she found in his beautiful, fearless eyes.

Love.

“Betty Cooper. I have loved you since I knew you, since that day you knocked Chuck Clayton to the street. I loved you when you let me share some of your lunches, knowing I didn’t have anything to eat those days. I loved you when you told me that you had a crush on Archie, and I loved you the day you stumbled into The Village Rose, crying your heart out. I loved you when I saw you as a goddess, and I loved you even more when you showed me your scars.

“I love you, Betty Cooper.”

He finally opened his eyes, acknowledging the tear that ran down his face, and saw her face was much like his.

He turned to leave, to go back and wallow in his sorrow with a black coffee at The ‘Rose. He was suddenly spun around, and opened his mouth to say something, anything, but he was stopped by two soft, pink lips pressed to his.

He dropped his picnic basket, and he was backed up into a tree. All rational thought was overcome, and something more primal, more beast, was awakened. He tilted his head, and pushed his tongue onto hers. She groaned, opening her mouth and letting him enter her. He rewarded her by pushing his body to hers, covering her with his warmth. He then turned them around so that her back was pressed to the tree, and he moved his mouth to her ear, sucking on her earlobe.

He had no idea where this knowledge had come from. He had never kissed anyone like this before. But all he knew now would have made his usual self shudder.

 _Mine_.

He moved to her neck, biting, teasing, sucking, nipping. All her gasps and halted breathing was fueling him, giving him motivation. He moved his hand to the small of her back, and she took that as an invitation to jump up, wrapping her legs around his back, crossing her ankles, pulling him farther in. He moaned, and moved down to her collarbone, licking what he found there.

He brought his hand down to the hem of her shirt, and was about to lift it up when a loud clap of thunder was heard, making them both jump.

“Well, we wouldn’t want to get drenched, now, would we?” She whispered in a small voice, brimming with laughter, gently untangling herself from Jughead and letting him set her on the ground.

He looked at her, still trying to wake himself from that weird lust-induced haze. He saw that her pupils had dilated and were a darkened shade of green, reflecting the leaves that surrounded them. He figured that his probably looked the same.

She smiled at him, awkwardly. “Let’s get going, shall we?”

He nodded, and bit his lip. It was so strange. His father had been discovered as dead two days ago, though it felt so long ago. How strange, that a death had given him a reason to live. He knew that he was probably breaking all rules of healthy grieving by passionately making out with the love of his life, but he didn’t care. They were as unconventional as they possibly could be.

She linked his arm with his, and walked off into the dark with him by her side. Just like it had always been, but with a different meaning now. They were together, and they were complete.

Completely unprepared for what would shake them next.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My index finger is now frozen, but oh well. Anything for you lovelies.
> 
> I am also aware that this chapter, and the one before, completely sucked.
> 
> Was that scene inspired by Klaroline in Season 5 of TVD? We'll never know.


	5. The Dreams In Which I'm Dying

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A fluff filler - bridges the gap between Chapter 4 and Chapter 6. That's literally all it is; 500 words of fluff.
> 
> Title taken from the song "Mad World," first written by the legendary Tears For Fears, revamped by Gary Jules for the movie "Donnie Darko," and then covered by the Riverdale Cast in Chapter 21 (aka the infamous Betty pole dance).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I know. I'M SEVERAL MONTHS BEHIND AND I'M SORRY. Writer's block is a very real problem. This chapter was a godsend by that wonky muse that only gives inspiration when she feels like it. Anywho, I promise things will pick up in the next chapter.
> 
> Oh right, the other godsend is @Peyton_0727. She's helped me out from the start with ideas, and it's very likely that updates are only swinging by thanks to her.
> 
> Also a big thank-you to @Gothmoglordofbalrogs. I'm still glad that you commented on my last chapter! It meant a lot and gave me the strength to continue with this. Thank you, thank you, thank you! <3

_ FP was calling out to him. _

_ “Boy, what did I tell you? Hightail your way out of this life of crime. Since you didn't listen, you gotta pay.” _

_ Jughead looked down to where his father was pointing his finger, and noticed blood trickling down. He raised his hands to his neck, and felt the axe sticking out. _

_ The axe. _

\---

Jughead woke up with a start, sweat staining his wife-beater. 

His heavy breathing slowed as he looked to his side and saw the beautiful blonde passed out next to him. He bent down to kiss her, running his fingers through her golden hair. He smirked, remembering their “encounter” against a (now traumatized) tree the evening before.

She opened her eyes slowly, her light green reflecting his light grey. When she quirked a quizzical eyebrow at him, he couldn't resist it - he pressed his lips to her, reveling in the feel of those lips that he'd dreamt about for so long.

She fisted the front of his shirt and pulled him closer, burying her face into his chest. A fuzzy feeling warmed his body at the action.

After minutes of this pure bliss, they reluctantly disentangled themselves from each other and stepped out of the bed.

“Breakfast?” asked Betty, still smiling.

“Thought you'd never ask,” answered Jughead.

\---

Still full from her homemade breakfast of bacon, eggs, and a divinely-cured ham (or so he’d claimed), Jughead had convinced Betty to go for a stroll with him in Fox Forest. Their hands were clasped, and they were walking in step, admiring the afternoon scenery. 

Betty knew that she should be focusing on the fact that her love of ten years was walking beside her, and the fact that he was gripping her hand (every time she thought about that, she became fuzzy and warm all over) but her overactive mind kept drifting back to FP’s severed head, laying in Thornhill Cemetery.

Jughead must’ve noticed her pensive demeanor, because he turned to face her. “Betty?” he asked gently, his eyes gazing into hers soulfully, in that heartfelt tone that made her heart squeeze a little in her chest. “Are you with me here?”

She sighed, placing one hand on his face, cradling his jaw. “No, no, I’m here. I just...keep thinking...about the graveyard…”

She knew she was being vague, but he understood her, as he indicated by his nod. 

“I don’t - I couldn’t ever believe for a second that it was you, Juggie. You loved your father beyond belief, I know. But it was - it didn’t look  _ right _ .” 

She put a halt to her rambling, looking at Jughead, who was wearing that deep-in-thought look of his. 

“You’re right,” he finally said. “It’s odd, to cut someone’s head off when poison or a bullet would have done the job as efficiently, and much more conveniently. But what do we do from here, to find whoever did this?” 

“We do what all good detectives do, Jones,” she looked up at him, a smirk gracing her elegant features. 

  
  


_ “We go to the scene of the crime.” _

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be able to update soon. Chapter 6 is in progress. Watch this space for a week or two. ;)
> 
> Oh, and I got a Tumblr! Find me and follow @wherearethecloudsnow.


	6. I’ve Got Blood On My Hands

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a bit of nocturnal investigation at Thornhill Cemetery, two very startling and unexpected discoveries are made. It’s the very stuff of detective novels and OTP writings.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, y’all. I’ve decided to revive this fic after so long. I know many people aren’t reading it, but to my few dedicated readers, I’m doing this for y’all.  
> I’ve started writing at school, so my updates may be a bit inconsistent, but bear with me. I’m getting there.  
> The title is taken from Royal Deluxe’s "I’m A Wanted Man." Listen to it while reading, if you can. It sets the tone of basically the whole fic.   
> Without further ado, here’s the start of the actual investigating.   
> Enjoy!

The crunch of grass underfoot was the only sound being made in Thornhill Cemetery in the pitch-black night. 

Betty had convinced Jughead to conduct a nighttime stakeout with her because there was a greater chance of being interrogated by the townspeople (including Sheriff Keller) if they conducted their investigation in broad daylight.

So far, no one had seen their lanterns glowing in the dark, which was a relief. However, the unforeseen downside of their investigation was that any time there was the  _ slightest _ noise, Jughead would make a squealing sound so loud that Betty was sure that General Pickens was covering his ears in his century-old grave.

It ran a little like this:

An owl hooted. “SKREE!”

A twig snapping? “SKREE!” 

_A_ _bug flying so softly that nobody with a normal pair of ears could hear it?_ “SKREE!”

 

Betty had found it endearing at first, but she was beginning to become the slightest bit annoyed. She couldn’t tell if she wanted to either wring his neck to make him shut up or kiss him to calm him down and maybe scandalize some of the ghosts haunting the cemetery.

 

After a particularly high-pitched screech that ended into him knocking his shoulder into hers, she admonished the cowering boy. 

“Calm down, Juggie, that was a  _ firefly _ ,” she scolded.

“I-it sounded like...what if it was our town’s resident decapitator?”

She sighed loudly and gripped his hand, lacing her fingers through hers. The action, she was pleased to see, calmed him down considerably.

“Are you ready now?” she asked.

“Cooper, I was born ready.” When she scoffed at that, he added, “Me getting scared was a ploy to get you to hold my hand.”

“Oh, really now?” she countered, and pounced on his shoulder, thus provoking a screech that couldn’t  _ possibly  _ have come from a human. 

“Aha! Let it be known that Riverdale’s own Lydia Deetz is indeed a huge scaredy-cat.”

“Hey!”

 

After a few minutes of playful bickering, the spirit of investigation calmed them down and they adopted more serious demeanors.

When Betty’s lantern flashed over the border made by Constable Keller for the crime scene, she beckoned Jughead to her side and they both stepped closer.

His hot breath on her ear was ticklish as he whispered, “What is it,  _ babe _ ?” 

Though that nickname made her flush (thankfully, he couldn’t see her scarlet cheeks as it was pitch-black outside), she was serious as she mumbled, “This is the scene. We’re bound to find something of relevance here.”

They tiptoed closer, and Jughead’s light landed on something metallic.

“What’s this?” he wondered aloud as he stepped closer.

Betty noticed it as well, and a flash of her lantern helped her quickly identify the mystery object.

 

“A shovel.”

 

\--

 

After their unexpected find, the pair left the cemetery, deciding that there was nothing else to be found. 

“Should we search it for blood?” Jughead asked. “If this was the murder weapon…”

“Jughead.” Betty smirked while sipping on her caramel hot chocolate, smiling at Pop as he went past. “Your father’s head was  _ sliced _ off. I may not have binge-watched CSI-” Jughead have her a sheepish grin -”but I’m pretty sure that you can’t use a shovel to decapitate someone.”

“What if he conked him out and then decapitated him?” Jughead persisted.

“That would definitely leave a dent, and the shovel seems to be dent-free,” Betty answered with certainty.

“Are you saying that my father had a thick head?” Jughead raised an eyebrow at her.

“It’s obviously a family trait.” Betty countered with a smile.

“ _ Ouch,  _ Cooper,” he replied with an expression of faux offense that barely disguised the smile threatening to surface.

“At any rate, the shovel must’ve been used for something else,” Betty said, adopting a more serious expression.

“Could it have been left by one of the Blossoms’ gardeners?” Jughead wondered aloud.

“Juggie, you know as well as I do that the Blossoms are as snobby as rich people can be. Their gardeners would probably rather jump off a cliff than be so careless and get fired on the spot.”

“That’s true... but then, how did that shovel get there?”

Betty looked at Jughead. Jughead looked at Betty. Then, something clicked in both of their minds.

Jughead picked up the shovel and turned it over. On the back of the spade itself, there was a mixture of brown and reddish dirt.

“The brown dirt came from Thornhill, undoubtedly…” said Betty. 

“But the red dirt…” Jughead continued.

  
“ _ The Platinum Python _ ,” they said in unison.

 

tbc.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Alright, so what did you think? Please comment, if possible.  
> Feel free to talk to me on Tumblr at wherearetheclouds.tumblr.com. Better yet, ask me how I came up with this fic. It’s a really interesting story, if you’d care to hear it.  
> Until next time!  
> ~LC


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